He could sense her presence in New Orleans. Jameson didn't know for sure how long she'd been there, but not much time could have passed. He had a feeling about her. Something supernatural in nature. Her well being was important to him, and when she was close by, he would always take it upon himself to check in on her.

Despite how long it's been since her last interaction with Ella, Soleil can't help the good-humored lilt in the sound of her voice. She's amused, of course - recalling just how much chatter there had been when Ella first arrived on the scene. Although she had long severed ties with the Orlavs, she still considers Ella to be someone of a little more than just a simple acquaintance.

"Chin up, buttercup." Jameson tapped the tip of his blood stained finger against the crest of Ella's chin, "If you hadn't put the hlupák down, then I would have." He grinned, "I enjoyed watching you take care of it, though."

Jameson saunters into the upstairs of Valar Morghulis, looking for Ella. He slings himself onto whichever sofa is closest, his legs dangling over the side as he waved her over lazily. "Ella." He drawls, "Please tell me why you keep some of these insufferable pledges around. Getting rid of people isn't all that difficult. I can help!"

"I'm not too concerned about you sharing a city with my wife. If you're stuck in New Orleans, I can always make the trip." He allowed a pause in the conversation, mentally considering his calendar. "I'll chalk it up to business." He was already walking back towards his house now, ready to wind down the conversation.

"You know where to find me once you decide. Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Donovan." With that, he disconnected the line.

Lloyd grinned, shaking his head as he continued to pace further from the house. She wanted to play dumb, and he wouldn't deny his own amusement. She would even earn a brief chuckle from his lungs. "If that's your truth, then so be it. Caused a bit of a mess on my end of things.. But I like a challenge every now and then. Keeps things interesting."

Lloyd had just cleaned up the mess Ella had created. And at the end of it all, he stepped out to make a phone call. He shot a glance back towards the house, ensuring he hadn't been followed. He waited patiently as the phone rang, beginning to speak once it connected.

"'C' and 'L' aren't even next to each other on the keyboard, Ms. Donovan. What are you up to?"

Atticus looks at the redhead with a mix of horror and disgust. He touches butts because Mackenzie tells him it builds character. NOT because he wants to touch any other butt but Camille's. Staring at the grotesque woman, acknowledging the wink and her words, he only has one response:

Jameson has been tasked. Well, it's not really a task, per say. More like, some smelly werewolf who lives in the mansion upstairs had insisted that he take these odd looking severed heads and deliver each of them to a respective patron. The Doctor doesn't quite understand why, but he doesn't actually care in the least. Tiberius, as he had introduced himself, had paid him a pretty penny to see that the deed got done.

Whatever. It worked in his favor.

He doubted that the mutt had expected him to put his own spin on the delivery, however. Jameson waited until the guy fled to go out and find some pretty pink boxes. White ribbons would accompany the painted cardboard- tied at the top into fancy, frilly bows. There's no way that any unsuspecting victim would come to realize what was actually inside of the box until it had been delivered.

Deranged doesn't even begin to encompass Jameson Orlav. To each person he drops off a box. While they're away, of course. His last encounter inside the house had brought immediate trouble for Ella. He would look to avoid that this time, if it was possible.

To Gideon, Quinn, and Ella herself. Inside each of their rooms they'd find a box. For Quinn and Gideon, their room would house two.

For Ella; On the first and oldest head in his possession he would swipe the lipstick over the full lips of the dead girl. The remainder of her face remained pale, her skin tinted icy blue thanks to being both post-mortem and cold. This head was going to Ella Donovan. The home wrecker. No matter her faults, she always presented herself as beautiful and plush.

And yo, there's no sign that Jameson has been here. Just so we're clear. Let's all relax on the coronary front for now.

Ella Novella
I'm glad things are okay. Especially with James.
I'm ok. It's been a rough couple of days, but I think I got everything calmed down on my end. I'm looking forward to coming home. I know we will be out for a little while longer.
I miss you. Tomorrow morning, lets both take a shot at 8am.

El Bosso
Just make sure it's a full-blown statue. I want everyone to be uncomfortable if I die for them.
I'm ready as I'll ever be. Bring a bat. I found a metal pipe that might be important but we can discuss that if we make it out alive.

El Bosso
That's a weird name for a demonic creature.
Walls can be replaced. We have to think about the safety of this crew. Elouise must be taken down.
If we don't make it, I want a memorial in the bathroom.

Boss
Honestly, I don't know what a possum looks like, it was a guess.
There might be more intimidation in numbers, but I can't guarantee this won't turn into a massacre. Someone might die. Preferably the possum/rat/thing.

Group Text: Ella's Party People
Greetings from the Lufcuh! I haven't met some of you yet, and I'm sorry for that! My real name is Quinn. I like moonshine, puppies, and karoake. I'm currently practicing my drinking skills to beat Orson on our next bar trip! If you need anything, let me know! [IMG]

Ms. Donovan
You're wearing a red bikini to the airport?
I've heard stories about the American South, but Good God, is that what it's really like?
I've always wanted to pay for petrol and buy a beer at the same go. Is that possible in Louisiana?

"Yeah, got a little pressure from the wife to start campaigning. I was going to take you up on the offer to make a banner for us, but figured you were busy with the new Sanctuary. Didn't want to bother you with the trivial stuff, you know? Congrats, by the way."

Within minutes, her phone chirps for her attention. An alert from Tinder! Quinn squeals to herself, squirming in a happy sort of dance where she sits in the cafe. Coffee nearly spills, people stare at her in bewilderment. What could possibly be so exciting in this day and age?

She unlocks her phone, opening the app to reveal the face on the other side. "Ella... bored af. Af? Lufcuh Hhh-mu. Maybe she's Jewish? Sounds Jewish? That's nice. Party everyday. I like those. Jameson... must be her other friend."

She had heard from a very friendly stranger that there was a way to find new friends. Quinn wasn't sure if they had the same definition of friend, but she figured she would give it a shot. Ironically, the friendly stranger did not end up being a friend. In fact, he'd been too friendly and invited her over to see his puppy.

Better luck next time, Friendly Stranger.

Having no idea what she is actually doing, she downloads the Tinder app (like the Ke$ha song?) and makes herself a profile. "Q-U-I-N-N... age 31..." she stops and stares at the screen, completely missing every other field.

"Must be the accent." His grin grows wider, a slight shake to his head as he grabs the two cards, sliding them back towards his body victoriously. "So tell me, how is your not so private love-affair with Doctor Orlav unfolding?" Frankly, the man is amused. One had to admire her brashness, unless of course her brazen nature came in-between their marriage.

Momentarily distracted by the buzzing of his phone, the man takes a moment to answer his wife before setting his phone down, screen unlocked and facing up. "Goldfish, mm? My mother always had a thing for Old Maid." After a short scoff, he slaps down his first card - a 7. By no means a good card, but it was certainly better than a 2.

"I should not have spoken so soon.. Perhaps luck is not on my side, after all." He falls silent as he sips from his beer, eyes meeting hers with a closed-lip grin.

With a smirk and a scoff, he moves to sit opposite of her, a beer of his own in hand. "Trust me, Ella, I won't be the one crying. Unless of course you're some sort of card shark, in which case, I'll shuffle first. Can't risk you weighing the deck on me."

After a swig of his ale, he sets his bottle down and splits the deck, the thrum of cards against his skin the only sound unless he evens them out against the desktop. "Solitare, you said? Why not.. War?"

Along with the aforementioned beer and pizza was Lloyd, an amused glint in his eyes. "No, no. I've a handle on everything." Slipping past the slender red head, the man is careful not to set the box or the six-pack down upon any paperwork that appears sensitive. "Just to be clear, I will not allow you even a single victory, Ms. Donovan. While I can appreciate that it is a special day for you, I take cards quite seriously."

Opening a bottle against the edge of her loaned desk, he offers it over. "Still prepared to lose?"

Ella
That, or I printed it, and framed it above my Juris Doctorate.
I'll admit, it's embarrassing, but you're still alive, and that counts for something.
I'm bringing a pizza with the beer, because I'm famished.

Lloyd was never a talkative man to begin with, and while alcohol seemed to have loosened his tongue some, he was rather reserved on their walk back to the compound. The lawyer rarely stayed on The Order's campus, as a family home was obviously more convenient. Standing outside of her door now, her hand on his chin, Lloyd allows the situation to warrant a small smile.

"Another time." Temptation, while beguiling, was no longer his weakness. At least he could rest easy knowing she was now home safe. "Goodnight, Ms. Donovan." After planting a kiss against the blush of her cheek, he breaks away from her touch, feet carrying him in the direction of home.

As Lloyd follows her to the door, one hand rests at the small of her back while the other steadies her, though the man is by no means more stable than she. As they depart the bar into the cool evening air, the opportunity presents itself once again to walk away. Yet, Lloyd follows, like a moth to a flame.

Soleil let out an amused snort, and held up her hand. "No, no," she replied, "I think we're going to stay out of this one. There's no competition in my mind, anyways" - she paused to tap her temple - "Thank you, though."

She offered another smile before bidding Ella goodbye. "Catch you around, yeah?"

Lloyd allows the agave liquid to carry the distaste in his mouth away, verdant eyes looking at Ella anew. Love his wife? What a trivial question. Of course he loved his wife. Love, however, never promised fidelity.

"Love is inconsequential, Ella. Surely you're smart enough to know it accounts for very little at the end of the day." He raises a hand, thumb skimming gently across her chin, his expression unreadable. "You are rather clever, aren't you, Ms. Donovan?"

"You know, Ella," Soleil laughed as she sauntered by, "I could get behind that if I weren't so into me and Rhiannon as best couple." She flashed a friendly grin at the redhead; her words weren't intended to be confrontational - just an acknowledgment of the flyer she'd just been handed. As much as she loved Elouise and as loyal as she was, Soleil found the Jameson-Ella dynamic rather entertaining.

"Good luck," she added before slipping the flyer into her back pocket.

"Seven?" The man pauses, a hand reaching up to scratch his cheek as he ponders the prospect. He'd simply have to let Cait know he would not be home in time to tuck the boys in. No sweat. "That should work fine. I will clear my schedule."

After a few awkward attempts, he successfully retrieves his papers from his new acquaintance. "I am a naturally hot-blooded individual, though. I believe I'd be best served keeping you warm, if anything. And I have a coat." His stark tone is far from flirtatious, but it's simply in his nature. Must be the accent. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella. I shall see you at seven."

"Free? Tonight?" He enunciates the words only to better comprehend the question. The lawyer is a literal man, working in fact. That is why the law suits him so well - he is able to function in a world of black and white; right and wrong. But, Lloyd is under clear instructions. Socialize, be welcoming.

Nervous would be an understatement for the poor man. He is innately awkward, still socially inept even with his own spouse. So, factor in an embarrassing introduction to a complete stranger, and Lloyd is due for a stroke at any moment. "Do I.. Love my wife?" He blinks several times, unsure if she had just actually presented him with such a loaded question.

"I.. In a manner of speaking.. It's impossible to say.." He finally pauses from his cascade of fragments, clearing his throat thereafter. "She had children!" He pipes back up, being just as disastrous as before, the poor ball of nerves. "I, ahm. Yes. I love my wife."

Lloyd shuffles down the halls, distracted by paperwork he shuffles through with dexterous fingers. Tongue clacking lowly against the roof of his mouth, the lawyer continues on, stocking feet gliding against laminate floor in an almost child-like fashion. Out of the corner of his eye, a red-head stands. Without much attention to detail, he stuffs the paperwork under an arm, quickly sliding over to make a comical, abrupt appearance before Caitlyn.

"Hey, Cait. What are y-" He cuts off, his face a mask of sheer horror. They're multiplying. "I thought.. No. Not my wife. Hello, I'm Lloyd." The man offers his hand, the stack of papers consequently cascading to the ground, slipping every which way, and generally making a disaster of his before-meticulously sorted files. This first encounter isn't awkward at all.

Touché. At least I'm not an unwashed trollop, which I'm sure is hard for you.

You can gawk at my husband all that you'd like, but unfortunately enough for you nothing will ever come to fruition. He's a loyal man. And you're just...not good looking enough to ruin a marriage over.

Soleil kept grinning as she thrust out her hand. Ella seemed innocent and sweet enough. "People are indeed friendly," she agreed, nodding, "For the most part, anyways." A couple of faces flashed through her mind - there were some dwellers of the Realm who scared the living sh*t out of her. Luckily, she hadn't had any unpleasant encounters. Yet.

"Pleasure is mine, actually. If you ever need anything, Ella," she continued, nonchalantly digging the toe of her boot into the ground, "Don't be a stranger. I'm always around."

Soleil had heard all the latest commotion and drama regarding the Orlavs and some new girl. Afterall, it made the front page of this week's issue of Death and Style. Who the f*ck was she? Soleil had to find out for herself.

She was passing by when she recognized the girl from the picture printed in D&S. She figured it wouldn't hurt to make herself known to the stranger, so she approached slowly. Clearing her throat, she brought two fingers up to her forehead in a small salute. "Hello," she said, announcing her presence, "I'm Soleil. I just wanted to give you a friendly, yet late welcome to the Realm." Soleil hoped the other girl wouldn't find her behavior suspicious, and offered a wide smile in attempt to thwart any initial animosity or uncertainty.

Eternally hypersensitive to the atmosphere and energies around him, there isn't a second of this strange girls elevated enamoring that he doesn't pick up on.
He's teetering the line between uncomfortable and intrigued, and though her fingers lingered against his hand, he's the first to pull away.